


The Serpent's Tongue

by RogueTranslator



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actual aftermath of one of the biggest character moments in the series, Aftermath, Angst, Canon Universe, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Repressed, Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Dean Winchester, Hopeful Ending, Lucifer doing what the writers couldn't be bothered to do, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueTranslator/pseuds/RogueTranslator
Summary: They’re all, quite literally, waiting for Death.Dean’s keeping an eye on Lucifer because no one else will. He’s not afraid of being alone with the Devil. There’s nothing he could do to him that would make him feel worse than he already does.Then Lucifer brings up Castiel, and Dean realizes how wrong he was.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 143





	The Serpent's Tongue

This had always been Dean’s least favorite part of working any case—the waiting.

Betty was in the archives, poring over Chuck’s death book. At least, that’s what Dean hoped she was doing. He wasn’t sure she could be trusted any more than her predecessor.

The one who’d forced Castiel’s hand. The one who’d drawn his sacrifice.

With nothing left to do but wait, he and Lucifer were in the bunker’s galley, sizing each other up. Dean was perched at the tip of the island, as if refusing to sit fully would make Death read faster; Lucifer reclined in the farthest seat at the table from him, drumming his fingers idly into the varnished wood. Sam couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Lucifer unless absolutely necessary, so he was consoling Jack somewhere down the hall. That suited Dean just fine, but someone had to keep an eye on the Devil.

“So.” Lucifer pursed his lips and drew out the vowel. “He finally told you.”

“What?” Dean said gruffly.

“Don’t play dumb, Dean-O. It’s not like you’re the sharpest knife to begin with.”

Dean heaved himself from the island and circled to the refrigerator. He started pulling at the tab of a beer before he’d even shut the door, his vision focusing on that small, silver figure eight as if it were the entire world.

“Aren’t you going to offer me one?”

“No.”

Dean drank. He tried to tune out Lucifer’s laughter.

“Dean Winchester and the Devil’s water. That’s your real one true love, I suppose. Poor Cas-tee-el never stood a chance.”

“Keep his name out of your mouth,” Dean spat.

“There’s that fire. Hey, maybe we’re getting somewhere.”

Lucifer teleported to his side of the kitchen and started pacing.

“See, I’m not getting the denial here. Everyone in the entire universe—including him—is dead. Everyone except the five of us down here. And you’re still worried that someone might think you and your celestial buddy are—gag—more than friends?”

Dean wrinkled his nose.

“Oh, wait.” Lucifer stopped in his tracks. “That’s not it, is it? No, it’s worse. You might not even mind that.” Lucifer tutted. “Oh, Dean-O. What would Daddy say?”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know that already. There’s a reason it’s his voice you heard when I called.”

Dean gulped down more beer. His mouth felt dry again instantly.

“Why’d you do that?” he demanded.

“Knew you were curious.” Lucifer wiggled his index finger up Dean’s breastbone. “In more ways than one, am I right?”

“Why’d you do that!”

Lucifer reared up to his full height, his eyes glinting for a moment with all his carefully restrained menace.

“Because when it comes to Cass, you’re a simp. Always have been. I figured that out when I was driving his vessel and you simped around for months trying to get him back.”

Dean glared back at him.

“‘Cass!’” Lucifer cried. “‘Castiel, show yourself!’ ‘What about Cass?’ ‘Oh, Cass, is it really you? Is big, mean Lucifer finally gone?’” With a roll of his eyes, Lucifer began pacing again. “At first, I thought it was just, you know, fraternal loyalty. Not that I’d know anything about that. But you kept deviating from the plan over and over—” He slapped his palm with the back of his other hand for emphasis. “It finally dawned on me.”

“What—what dawned on you?”

“That you loved him. Totally, unconditionally. Stupidly. He unleased the Devil on the world and it didn’t even register. All you cared about was him.”

Dean didn’t want to risk outright denial; Lucifer would see right through it. He drained the rest of his beer and set the empty can on the counter. He didn’t come up with a response before Lucifer continued holding forth.

“Of course, I knew the score on his end, being inside his head and all that. He was convinced you’d never return his feelings. He’d made peace with loving you from a distance, saying with a hand on your shoulder what he’d never allow himself to utter with words.”

“He—” Dean’s breath hitched. “Back then?”

“Oh, yeah. Way longer, really. Why’d you think he chose you over the angels?”

Dean looked down at the kitchen floor. “You shouldn’t be telling me this. I’m not even sure I believe you.”

“Wow, you got me,” Lucifer sneered. “God’s annihilated all life in the universe and I’m pretty much a dead archangel walking, but what I really care enough to lie about is your angel boyfriend giving you a reach-around. Sure, Dean.”

“You’re the Devil,” Dean said stubbornly. “You lie.”

Lucifer’s smug laugh made Dean’s skin crawl. He had the distinct feeling that he’d fallen into a carefully laid trap. Dean looked up, resolving that however uncertain he was feeling, he wouldn’t hide.

“Humans always preach to each other about how I lie. It’s true, I do. I mean, I own that.” Lucifer tilted his head, and it looked nothing like when Castiel did it. “What they don’t spend nearly as much time considering is how I know what to lie about.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know. You’re a little slow, so I’ll try to phrase it less elliptically.” Lucifer cleared his throat. “I know how to lie because I know what people’s truths are. What you love; what you fear. One of those big cosmic ironies dear old Dad’s so fond of? From that first bite in the Garden, no one’s understood you apes better than me. Not even him.”

Dean shook his head, more with fatigue than denial.

“Put it all together, Dean. You can do it. Man, I love seeing those little gears turn.”

A few seconds passed. Then, Dean pushed off from the counter and strode to the war room.

“Hey, what’s this? Weren’t we in the middle of something?”

“None of this matters,” Dean replied. He’d walked away to hide the pricking in his eyes from Lucifer, but something about the heightened mockery in the bastard’s tone told him that he’d been unsuccessful in that.

“‘None of this matters,’” wailed Lucifer. “‘Not without Cass! Let the world burn!’”

Dean braced himself on the edge of the map table and caught his breath.

“Not what I meant.”

“Well, go on.” Lucifer circled the map table. “Enlighten me.”

“Whatever you think you know about me, and—and Cass—none of it matters now. He’s gone.”

Lucifer shrugged. “I made it back.”

“The Empty sent you back. It’s not going to do that for Cass."

"Not with that attitude."

"And I already tried asking Chuck to bring him back. Offered him anything he wanted. He said no.”

“You offered—” Lucifer doubled over with laughter. “Oh, Dean-O. What did I tell you?” He slapped his hands together gleefully. “Simp.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at the hallway. Surely Betty couldn’t need that much longer.

“I saw him, you know,” Lucifer said. He’d stopped at Dean’s side, too close for comfort. His unnaturally cold aura made the hairs on Dean’s arms stand on end.

“You saw him?” Dean swallowed. “In the—”

“The Empty, yeah. My son going supernova woke everyone up, and the Empty didn’t have time to put us all under again before it got summoned to Earth.”

“He’s not your son,” Dean snapped. “Cass is his father.”

“I pretty much had a front-row seat,” Lucifer said, ignoring him. “The Empty comes back with two scalps, and you think, hey, one of them is Death, that’s the one it’s going to crow about. Oh, no. It shoos off Death as soon as the three of them get back, but with Cass—with Cass it wants to take its time.”

“Shut up.” Dean’s hands were shaking. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Thing is, though, the idiot doesn’t back down. No matter how much torture the Empty puts him through, it just can’t wipe that stupid grin off his face. And he’s broken and bloody—to the point where even angels and demons who hated his guts are feeling sympathy—but there’s still that goofy smile, some slurred words about how he’d saved the man he loved.” Lucifer poked Dean’s shoulder. “Dean Winchester.”

Dean spun around and threw a punch. Lucifer didn’t bother ducking.

“Ow,” Lucifer deadpanned.

Dean shook his crumpled fist, wondering whether he’d fractured any of his fingers.

“You might want to be careful there, sport. Now that you-know-who isn’t around to kiss it better.”

“I don’t believe any of this.” Dean cradled the arm that was smarting and walked, trying to put some distance between him and Lucifer. “You’re full of it. Always have been.”

“See, you keep saying that, but it’s obvious you don’t mean it.” Lucifer threw his hands up. “Like, really obvious. So why not just drop the act? I mean, come on. What do you want to know? How he’s doing? I can tell you.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to know.”

“I bet you don’t,” Lucifer said quietly. His eyes narrowed as he stalked around Dean. “After all, it’s your fault he’s where he is.”

“No! It’s Chuck’s fault! All of this, all of it, is Chuck!”

“Dean?”

Dean and Lucifer turned to the entrance of the map room, where Sam and Jack stood apprehensively. They both looked like they’d been crying.

“What’s going on?” Sam said. “Why’re you shouting?”

Lucifer leaned into Dean. “You want to tell them? Or should I?”

“Tell us what?” Jack said.

“How can I put this in terms you’ll understand? Your father—not me, your other father—died because he told Dean here that he had feelings for him.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Feelings?” Jack repeated. “What kind of feelings?”

“Oh, boy. I guess you haven’t had the talk with him yet.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Dean said. “Where’s Betty?”

“Okay, little slugger. Here’s the after school special version. When an angel and a human love each other very much, and yet are both as emotionally constipated as each other?” Just below his chin, Lucifer tapped the tips of his index fingers together. “That’s when they do things like, well, die. Because that’s way easier than basic communication. Hang on, I think some of the chimichanga I had for lunch is coming up.”

“But…the Empty said that it would only take Cass when he was truly happy.”

“Yeah, and you knew about it all this time,” Dean bristled. “For over a year.”

Sam placed his hand on Jack’s back. “Dean, don’t.”

“Why would—” Jack’s eyes flicked between the three of them. “Why would dying make Cass happy?”

Lucifer sighed. “It’s like the apple fell from the tree and rolled a few miles before landing in the mud of Winchester dullness. The thing Daddy Cass wanted more than anything else was to do the kissy-kissy with angry flannel man here. But because they’re both pathetic simps, he was happy with ‘just saying it.’ And now he’s in hell for gay angels. Which is way less fun than the ship I used to run. Do you get it now?”

There was a long silence in the war room. Dean wanted to lash out at Lucifer, but the more he thought about what had happened—the more he thought about Cass being gone—the more real it became, and the less will he had to go on with the mission. He had to keep things together for a little while longer. If Chuck wasn’t dealt with, there was no way they’d ever get Cass back.

“Well, this is awkward.” Lucifer pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m just going to play some cards with myself while I’m waiting for Betty. You three can sort this out amongst yourselves.”

“Dean?” Sam ventured, once Lucifer had slithered into the library. “What’s—what’s going on? Was any of that true?”

“It’s—” Dean gestured halfheartedly. “It’s not important right now, Sam. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“But I want to know.” Jack rubbed his eyes. “I want to know—Cass—”

“Cass was a hero,” Dean interrupted. “He saved me; he saved all of us. He’s our family and we’ll find a way to bring him back, I promise you. But for right now, we have to keep our eyes on what’s right in front of us. We have to focus. Especially you.” Dean gave Jack the subtlest of glances. “Are you still…?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just act normal. We’ll get through this. We’ll take down Chuck and bring everyone back. Cass included.”

Jack sniffed and nodded, seeming heartened by Dean’s pep talk. Dean motioned to the library.

“We better keep an eye on him.”

They moved. Sam lagged behind to watch Dean, wearing the eyes-squinted, chin-askew expression that meant he was filling in the places Dean had left blank. He’d been making insinuations about Dean and Castiel for years, so Dean supposed this felt like a moment of vindication for him. If—when—they rescued Cass from the Empty, Dean would let him take his victory lap. He might even laugh along with him, as long as Cass was by his side.

For now, they had work to do.


End file.
